


The Spirit of Christmas

by ARWitchyWoman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Cross-Generation Relationship, F/M, Mild Language, Past Relationship(s), Severus Snape Fest 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARWitchyWoman/pseuds/ARWitchyWoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maudlin!Snape + Maudlin!Hermione = poorly sung Christmas Carols</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spirit of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I am so very grateful to Super-Beta in a cape for generously volunteering her expertise with both grammar correction, content input and Brit-picking. Never living in Britain, I did not understand the concept of a ‘lock-in’. Google isn’t a help. While this story doesn’t truly portray a lock-in _per se_ , I image Severus isn’t going to frequent a pub with a party of cheerful people, nor would such crowds be frequent in Cokesworth. And Happy Birthday, Severus, you snarky bastard, you. Finally, thank you to the mods of this fest for all the work you do for our enjoyment!

_Well, Happy Christmas to me,_ Snape thought as he tipped the near-empty bottle of port and drained it of its last sweet contents. It had been a long, grey day this twenty-fourth of December, and—for the season—it was unreasonably above freezing temperatures in the depressed outskirts of Cokesworth. Spinner’s End could not even be buggered to have at least a blanket of snow to cover its poverty and depression for the holiday season. And in the most dismal home on the street sat the most dismal denizen of the neighborhood, attempting to get pissed enough to sleep until the New Year arrived.

With a sudden realization that if he didn’t venture out now, though the hour was late, he would be stuck until Boxing Day with not much more to quench his thirst than water and questionably fresh milk. So as the community church’s bells tolled ten, Snape donned his muffler and stepped out into the damp, foggy night.

His feet carried him down the familiar streets with little thought as to his destination. Two right turns and five blocks carried him to the door of the Black Goose Pub. He stepped inside and was promptly greeted with a grunt from the landlord, Cavanagh.

“What’r ya out for this late on the Eve, Snape?”

“Evening, Cavanagh. Happy Christmas to you, I suspect is the appropriate greeting.” Snape held up two fingers. “Bottles. Beefeater.”

~~*~~

The atmosphere in the Goose was much more festive than in the rest of the neighborhood. Cavanagh had taken the trouble to trim the taps with some loose strings of colored lights and placed a one-foot tall store–bought fake tree at the end of his oak bar.

His radio hummed strains of “Silent Night” mixed with “Baby, it’s Cold Outside” to finish the mood. All in all, Snape could think of worse places to be on this night.

“Closin’ in ten!” barked Cavanagh at his only patron.

“It’s barely midnight! I’m hardly half through wi’ me first bottle!” Snape slurred back.

“Suit yourself, mate. Christmas Eve and all. I’ll be heading upstairs to my family. Won’t be back until half-five tomorrow afternoon. Ye can leave, or I’ll leave ye on lock-in. Your choice.”

Severus brought the bottle to his lips for another deep swig. He was in no mood to go back to a cold, empty hovel and wait out another day or so whilst Muggles celebrated the birth of their lord and savior. Sod it.

Just as Cavanagh was about to leave, the door opened and a draft of warm foggy air blew into the pub. Stepping in right behind it was a scrawny figure dressed in a dirty robe and sporting a head that frizzed worse than a seeding dandelion.

“We’re closed, Miss. Christmas, ye know.”

Hermione Granger looked around until her eyes settled upon Snape. His pallid skin stood out in contrast to the dark wood he attempted to meld into.

“What about him? Are you locking him in?” she asked.

Cavanagh turned his head back to Snape. “What do ya think, mate? Care for company?”

“I can handle her. We’ve met before,” Snape replied.

“Good enough for me. There’s some cheese and salami in the fridge if ye get hungry. I’m lockin’ ye in, Miss. Ta.” And with that, Hermione Granger found herself alone with Severus Snape and a pub full of alcohol.

~~*~~

Hermione made herself comfortable behind the bar, grabbing a clean glass and pouring herself four fingers of the first bottle of gin she put her hands on. Keeping a wary eye on the booth, Hermione brought forth a bowl of mixed nuts. A flick and swish later and the nuts preceded her and her drink to where Snape sat.

He had sobered up quickly upon her entrance.

Former lovers tended to do that to you.

They sat across from each other. The silence hung thick between them.

Hermione brought her glass to her lips. A deep swallow removed half its contents.

“Shit!” she sputtered. “I’m not certain if that’s alcohol or petrol!”

The right corner of Snape’s lips curled up. “My, Granger, you’re losing your touch.”

“That’s ok. I never strived to be an expert at drinking. I have to admit, though, the next sip should go down much easier.”

“No doubt.”

Snape reached into the bowl and brought forth a handful of nuts. Biding his time, he carefully placed one or two morsels in his mouth at each pass, never replacing them until the prior had been thoroughly chewed and swallowed.

Hermione carefully watched his display and remembered his pride in proper table etiquette. She picked up her own cashews and began to munch.

“Oh, that’s disgusting!” Hermione snapped when Snape proceeded to lick each finger clean of salt and reach for another handful.

“Don’t judge me, witch! This is MY pub, and I can bloody do whatever I wish!”

“Your pub? You’re now a pub owner? When did that happen?”

“Listen, nobody told you to leave the merriment of London and disturb what little peace I have here! Of all the pubs in all of Britain, you had to pick the one I frequent. Then of all the booths and tables here, you make yourself at home in mine! What are _you_ doing here?” Spittle flew from his mouth as his finished his tirade.

Hermione wiped her cheek with the back of her palm.

“It’s none of your business what I’m doing here. Suffice it to say, I am here, and I’m not going anywhere until half-five tomorrow.”

Hermione took a calming breath. “I apologize. It was wrong of me to criticize you. Let’s make the most of what we have, and I won’t disturb you anymore.”

Hermione picked up her glass and made her way to the opposite side of the room, choosing a booth that bordered a window looking out into the street. She put her glass down, then retreated to the bar to find another bowl of nuts and grab the bottle of gin she had opened earlier.

“One more thing, Snape – where can I leave my pounds for the landlord?”

He grunted his objection to conversation. “Under whatever empty bottle you leave behind.”

~~*~~

Only two hours of silence prevailed before the merriment began. Snape could detect that Granger was somewhere between one and two sheets to the wind.

_The Snow lay on the Ground, the stars shone bright, When Christ the Lord was born on Christmas Night. Venite adoremus Dominum, Venite adoremus Dominum_ Hermione’s melodic humming continued as the radio quietly serenaded the patrons.

Her voice had always been full of gentle beauty.

Severus leaned his head back against the warm wood and listened to the angel herald Christ’s birth. All-in-all, this could have been a lonelier night.  
Four more carols played, each softer and more lovely than the one before. Just as Severus started to close his eyes, he heard her whisper, “Do you mind if I join you?”

This time she asked.

He looked up and found her standing with a half-empty bottle of Bombay and a glass.

“It’s somewhat lonesome on that side and I’m getting sleepy. Do you mind?”

Severus slid to the corner of the booth, which abutted the wall. He held his arm out, motioning her to slide in next to him. Hermione cautiously glanced to the empty side of the booth, gave a small smile, then sat down next to Snape.

“I truly am sorry I stumbled upon you tonight... No! I’m happy to see you, I’m just sorry to disturb your peace. You see, it’s rather lonely out there tonight when you have no family or friends to share it with. This is the third Christmas Eve I’ve spent in lock-in. I prefer it to my empty flat.”

She was at three sheets and spilling her darkest secrets. The girl couldn’t hold her gin.

“It’s alright, Hermione. I understand. I’ve always said you and I are kindred spirits.”

“Ha!” Hermione snickered. “Spirits! Get it? Spirits? Gin? Kindred? You and me?” Her giggles escalated to laughter as she found humor in a pun that was never intended. It was infectious.

Severus broke into a toothy grin and chuckled. “Granger, you’re drunk. Shove back over, I’ll find us some grub.”

“Good call. If I don’t find the loo, I’m going to wet myself.” Hermione joined Snape as he stood from the booth. He stood behind her and grabbed her shoulders, pointing her towards the ladies’ and giving a small shove.

Severus went behind the bar and pulled his wand out. Silly waving worked fine for brewing coffee. He bent forward to the miniature refrigerator and pulled out a smoked salami and a brick of Cheddar. A crusty baguette completed the feast.

By the time Hermione returned, Severus had cut up enough morsels to make a meal for the two of them.

Hermione carried the platter back to the booth as Severus followed with the carafe of black liquid and two mugs. She waited for him to slide in first before she joined him again on the same side. He held his arm up. Hermione accepted his invite and slid next to his side. Still a little pissed, she brought her freshly washed hands to her nose and deeply inhaled the remnants of lavender soap.

“Smell this, Snape! It’s lovely.” He grabbed her wrist as it reached towards his face and pulled her hand down to the salami.

“And you call me disgusting? Granger, if I’m going to smell any hand, it will be my own, thank you very much. I suggest you have a few bites before you proceed to truly make a fool of yourself.”

Between chews of cheese and meat, Hermione resumed her serenade.

_”The boar’s head in hand bring I, Bedeck’d with bays and rosemary. And I pray you, my masters, be merry, Quo testis in convivio!”_

Severus smiled and lent his deep baritone to the chorus.

_”Caput apri defero, Reddens laudes Domino!”_

Hermione looked at him stunned and quieted for him to resume the next stanza.

Severus puffed out his chin and continued with a grin.

_”The boar’s head, as I understand, Is the rarest dish in all this land. Which thus bedeck’d with a gay garland Let us servire cantico.”_  
The two of them continued in harmony. _”Caput apri defero, Reddens laudes Domino!”_

Laughter overtook them as the radio continued the song.

“Severus, if I knew you had such a handsome voice, I’d have made certain we never parted!”

Her confession, drunk as it was, brought his merriment to a sudden end.

Snape looked down into Hermione’s eyes. With a gentle cup of his hand to the back of her head, he leant into her face and bestowed a kiss on her lips. A sad kiss, a kiss full of longing, contrition, and yearning for what could not be.

“No regrets, luv. What happened, happened. We cannot change the past.”

Hermione leaned once again into his side. With a now contented stomach, she gave a small sigh followed by a large yawn.

“No, we can’t. But I cherish every minute of it.”

As the radio played “Silent Night” both Severus and Hermione closed their eyes and fell into a contented sleep.

~~*~~

Late the next afternoon, Cavanagh returned to open back up knowing what to expect. Snape made a habit of staying locked-in each Christmas Eve and never left a mess or a debt.

The one thing that always baffled Cavanagh, though, was how Snape was able to leave the building without a trace. There were no other spare keys lying around, and the windows were all latched from the inside. The door leading to the lane was also locked from the outside yet neither Snape nor the woman were to be found.

He’d have to get to the market to restock his nuts it seemed. An empty bottle of Beefeater sat next to an empty bottle of Bombay. Under the bottles were forty pound notes and two odd gold coins bearing the likeness of a dragon on one side and the word “Gringotts” on the other. They appeared to be pure gold.

He’d have to ask Snape about the coins next time they crossed paths. Their value in this market might cover most of a month’s house note.  
This would be a good Christmas after all.


End file.
